


Chapter 4 - Part 2 - Date At the Museum

by epsentinel



Series: It's Complicated [5]
Category: Original Work, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: British Museum, Date Night, Date at a Museum, F/M, Gen, Jamie's a smart arse, John goes on a Date, M/M, Nervous John, Ryan's an arse, Sherlock Plays the Violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsentinel/pseuds/epsentinel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John goes to pick Ari up at her sister’s off campus apartment shared by many students, including couples. John meets Ryan Gessup, Zebina’s boyfriend and is not very impressed.<br/>John & Ari go to the British Museum for their date.<br/>Sherlock plays the violin to settle down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Building Six

**Author's Note:**

> I know this may be seeming very Mary Sue-ish, but bear with me through this and Chapter 5. I promise you that Chapter 6 only has the boys in it, though the girls do get mentioned. ~_^  
> BTW, if you're interested in any of the music Sherlock plays, let me know and I'll add links so you can hear/listen to it.
> 
> Many, many thanks to Aurora_bee for her Britpicking & general cheerleading. She's helping to keep me going/sane as I attempt to work on this monster of a story! ^_^
> 
> Please comment, even if it's just to say one (preferably positive) word. I need the reassurance I'm not writing this in vain. *hugs* Reviewers are very much loved!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes to Ari's address to pick her up and runs into Ryan, her sister's boyfriend.

**1pm, Outside Nonresident Student Housing, Building Six**

John stopped on the pavement and looked up from his phone. He double checked the address Ari had texted him, twice and compared it to the number on the wrought iron fence. They both matched. _Whoa!_ John looked up at the house and didn’t know what to think. _Students live here? This looks like a bloody mansion._

A huge Victorian style townhouse stood before him. It was over twice the size of any normal townhouse John had ever seen. The house was painted in bright, cheerful, almost neon colors, not the normal brick he was used to seeing. He counted three stories, what looked to be an attic area with tiny windows, and smaller windows around the bottom of the porch, which meant it most likely, had at least a partial basement, as well. A porch started at the left side of the house and wrapped around to the right. _I wonder if it wraps around the back of the house._ He noticed that there was a railing on the roof of the porch, which meant it could also be used as a terrace. John squinted and sure enough, he saw a folding chair next to a window on the second story veranda. _This could be a hotel, with how big it is_. Unlike most townhouses, this wasn’t attached to its neighbors on any side. John was frankly astonished by the plot of land it was on, _In the middle of London, no less. It’s got to be at least six or more meters to the fence and the surrounding houses. How big is this place? Ari said Nina lived in a house with a lot of other students, but I never expected anything like this._ John wondered who owned the house and land. _It must be privately owned. If a uni owned it, they’d probably tear it down and build a much larger dorm on the land. And who could blame them?_ John looked up at the house in awe, not quite sure how to proceed. _Wonder what the garden’s like._

John stood directly in front of the gate and didn't at first take notice, nor hear a person to his left clear their throat. When a more forceful, "Hahemm," caught his attention, John turned to look at the tall bloke standing next to him. His mouth was pursed as if he'd just tasted something sour. He was looking pointedly at John as if John should be able to read his mind or intent. As if he thought John were slow, he said slowly, with enunciation, "This is my home, sir,” he indicated the gate and house with a wave of his hand, “I need to get by you. Could you please step away?"

John blinked, "Oh, sorry," and stepped back quickly. He watched the young man open the wrought iron gate and enter. John frowned slightly as the doctor in him noticed things about the young man. He took in the young man’s pallor and sallow color, the dark circles under his eyes, and his shallow breathing. John wondered if he were Ryan. _Ari hadn’t really described Ryan very well, but he looks unwell enough that he could be the young man. Or he could just on drugs._ John shrugged, ignoring the thought and followed the young man down the walkway. He let the gate swing shut behind him with a slight bang. John could see the young man's shoulders become tenser as they approached the door down the walkway. They had almost reached the porch when John realized the man’s fists were clenched.

At the top of the steps, the young man turned and almost growled, "Can I help you?"

John was taken back at the near rage level of emotion that seeped through the young man's voice, let alone his baring. John did not like the fact that he now had the added advantage of being on the high ground, even if it was only a few steps. The solider in him was almost twitching to respond to the violence he sensed in the young man. John had gone ramrod straight at the young man’s tone and his hand twitched, wanting to pull a weapon to defend himself with. 

The young man seemed to see the shock he'd caused and composed himself quickly. He apologized almost immediately upon realizing that John meant him no harm, "Sorry, I have had a rather trying few days." He straightened up and asked again, "Can I be of assistance?"

John nodded, trying to shake off the urge to pull the gun he hadn't brought. With a calm voice he really didn’t feel at the moment, he said, "Yes, I'm looking for a Ms. Preston." 

The young man's features morphed into something close to consternation, "Zebina? She's already left for class."

John blinked again and smiled at the misunderstanding, "Ah, no. I was looking for her sister."

John watched his face fall and almost turn to disgust, "Ah, yes, Arianna. I don't know if she's in. I believe she was here when I left." He seemed to remember himself, "Ah, pardon the rudeness, I'm Ryan Gessup, nice to meet you."

John nodded, took a few steps up, and took his proffered hand, "Doctor John Watson."

That seemed to surprise Ryan as he recognized John’s name, "Oh, you’re the one she was nattering on about yesterday during lunch."

John blinked again, processing the undertone of what Ryan had said and not liking what he was coming up with. Releasing Ryan’s hand, John had to suppress the urge to hit him in the face. He could feel the criticism oozing from the sick looking young man. A part of him was very glad he'd given his title as a doctor, not just his name. John tried to keep his face composed as Ryan looked him up and down, as if appraising a horse on auction. He knew what the young man saw, but frankly didn't care if he wasn’t impressed by it. _Your opinion doesn't matter, lad. Not to me or to Ari, whose opinion does matter._

John remembered distinctly hearing Ari tell Ryan to keep his nose out of her love life. The words alone brought a smile to John's lips, which seemed to confuse Ryan even more. That brought a couple different sayings to John's mind, “The bigger the smile, the sharper the knife." _I did always like that saying. From some Star Trek thing, I think._ “Hide a knife behind a smile.” That particular saying was from some Chinese sayings that he’d learned in school. The last saying was something far less dignified, “ _Smile_ at your _enemies_ , it _confuses_ them, ” which he’d picked up online somewhere. He didn’t know which one he’d choose for this particular annoyance, which was occupying the space in front of him, but he was starting to lean toward the first quote. 

John could definitely see why Ari didn’t like the guy. _If the git had been dating my sister, I think I really would deck him. Although, I doubt Harry would ever go for someone like this . . . even if she weren’t into girls._ John’s smile became somewhat genuine at his next thought. _Knowing Harry, she’d be more likely to deck him herself, than put up with his attitude._ John wondered if Ryan was intentionally blocking the stairway. _Is he hoping to make me late or dissuade me from seeing her?_ John decided to see how Ryan reacted to the reason why he was here, “I was just coming to pick her up for a date.”

Ryan seemed even more surprised by this new information, “Really? You want to spend more time with her?”

John had to take a deep breath to steady himself, but was saved from replying by the front door opening, “Yo, Ry-guy. What’re you doin’ on the front steps?” John blinked at the very American slang said in a slight Southern accent and absurd nickname. He looked around Ryan to see a very blonde, half dressed, surfer looking young man, leaning out of the door. “Oh, who’s that with ya?”

John climbed the three remaining steps onto the landing, stepping closer to Ryan, crowding into his personal space and held out his hand, smiling, “Doctor John Watson, nice to meet you.”

A smile broke out over the young man’s face, “Ah, you’re the bloke Ari’s waiting for.” The tan young man took three long steps and took John’s hand, giving it a firm shake, but let go rather quickly, “She just got in the shower a few minutes ago.” The young man looked between John and Ryan, “Don’t think she was ‘specting you for another half hour, at the least.” He motioned John in, “Ignore snooty pants, there. He’s been in a bad mood since that cutie showed up.” John couldn’t help but like the young man for his bluntness and what appeared to be accurate assessment of Ryan. John saw Ryan tense perceptibly, “Name’s Jamie, Jamie Richmond.” John wondered if Ryan were jealous of Ari, but couldn’t think too much about it, as Jamie kept talking, “I’m from South Carolina, not too far from where the girls’re from.” Jamie continued, getting Ryan’s attention, “In or out, Ry-guy . . . not in between.” John saw the smirk on Jamie’s face as Ryan straightened his shoulders at the use of the nickname again, “You’re keeping our guest from coming in and greeting his date.” 

John tried not to smile at how Jamie deliberately handled Ryan’s snobbish attitude with nonchalance. John doubted he’d ever seen someone deal with a situation so uniquely and deftly, who hadn’t been trained for situations such as terrorist negotiations. John could hear the implication of Ryan’s rudeness, goading him into some form of action. He vaguely wondered how Ryan would respond to Jamie’s words. He wasn’t surprised when Ryan straightened his shoulders even more. John’s instincts were telling him to be wary of Ryan. _Should probably watch that one._ Ryan moved stiffly out of John’s way, stepping backward without saying a word. John nodded politely, but watched him warily, “It was nice meeting you, Ryan.”

Ryan just nodded shortly in return, as Jamie ushered John inside the house. Jamie whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t mind him. He’s got a stick up his rump the size of an elephant.” 

John tried not to laugh at Jamie’s comment, but ended up smirking as he followed Jamie down the long hallway. Jamie pointed out different rooms in the lower portion of the house and named off people as they passed. The house was just as big on the inside as John had thought it would be from the outside. Most of Jamie’s chatter was lost on John, as the hustle and bustle of the place reminded him of a medical tent after a particularly heavy attack. There were several different types of music being played from different sections of the house. John counted at least six different people hastening about, caring anything from sandwiches to instruments. It was a variable hive of activity. 

John refocused on Jamie’s words when he said, “You just make yourself at home, take a load off, and I’ll just have Sandy tell Ari you’re here.” To John’s amusement, Jamie showed him to the kitchen area, indicated a chair at a long table and turned slightly, head facing the stairs, before yelling, “Sandy, Sandy!”

A voice drifted down the stairs, “W’at?!”

“Tell the newbie her date’s here.”

“She’s in the loo!”

Jamie laughed, “Yeah, well, tell her he’s early!”

John flushed, “I don’t mind waiting. She didn’t expect me until two.”

Jamie waved him off, “Nah, it’s good to keep them on their toes.” He winked, “Keep ‘em guessin’.”

John smiled at the young man, as a laughing female voice trailed down the stairs several seconds later, “She said she needs fifteen. Probably more like twenty. Poor girl was just shampooing 'er 'air. Tell her date he needs to call if he’s gonna be tha’ early again.”

John felt himself really start to blush. He hadn’t thought to text, he’d been too excited to see her. Jamie caught the expression and laughed, “You’re really into her, huh?” 

John looked up and realized that the surfer attitude was just an act, as keen eyes observed him. He smiled, shrugging the question off, “I’ve only known her a day.”

Jamie shrugged in return, “Denny and I only knew each other two months before we got hitched.” The young man held up his right hand, showing a simple golden band on his ring finger, “It’s one of the reasons I’m here doing my internship, instead of back in Spartanburg.” He made a face of disgust, “Gay marriage isn’t exactly accepted in the states, yet.” John blinked, not having pegged Jamie as gay, but nodded in understanding, “You won’t get to meet Denny today. He’s got classes all day.” His boyish grin made John feel better somehow, “If you stick with Ari, you’ll get to meet him eventually.”

John stood, recognizing Ari’s voice as it was raised in frustration. A screech issued from upstairs, startling both men, “I have to change!” John had moved to the doorway before he realized what he was doing. He frowned as Jamie, who’d moved with him, put a hand on his arm, stilling his movement. 

A yelled reply was clearly heard, it was Ryan, “Why didn’t you take your bloody clothes with you in the loo? That would have been the smart thing to do.” 

John made another move to Ari’s defense, but Jamie’s hand tightened. A slightly quieter reply was just barely heard as the house had gotten eerily quiet, “I didn’t expect him so early, Ryan. Please?! I need to get ready!”

Both men heard a door slam and a few seconds later watched from the kitchen doorway as Ryan stormed down the stairs, “Bloody women!” Ryan flung open the front door and slammed it as he raged through.

John’s jaw tightened and he felt his fists clench, “Easy mate.” John turned to see a frowning Jamie. He could tell Jamie wasn’t happy about what had just happened, either, “It’ll do ya no good to start a fight with Nina’s boyfriend.” He nodded, sincerely, “Promise.”

John saw something in Jamie’s eyes and realized he spoke from experience. He took a deep breath and nodded, “Thanks.”

Jamie nodded and released John’s arm, “Former military, huh?”

John blinked, “What?”

Jamie nodded, indicating his arm, “You’re strong, wiry strong, though. Not buff strong. So I’m guessing athlete or former military.” John watched him flex his hand and wrist, “It actually took some strength to keep you from going after him and I’m betting I wouldn’t have been able to keep you from going after him if he’d done something stupid.” John’s smile turned slightly feral and Jamie laughed, “Yep, military. I think I like you, man. I’ve known Zebina and Ari for a while. We went to school together before I transferred over here.” Jamie frowned, looking away from John, seeming to look into the past, “Ari’s the world to Nina and that girl has had it rough.” John wondered what Jamie knew about the sisters’ past and was tempted to ask, but Jamie continued speaking, “Be good to her. She deserves it.”

John smiled, liking the young man in return, “I will.” He smiled wider, “Well, at least I’ll try.”

Jamie looked back at John and laughed at that, “Yeah, that’s about all you can do.” He winked, “If ya ever need someone to talk to or get advice from, I know both the girls pretty well and I might be able to give you a few pointers.”

John laughed, “I might just take you up on that.” 

They walked back into the kitchen. Jamie pulled out two mugs as John sat down at the table. Jamie nodded, as he moved to the two coffee pots that were beside the sink, “Yeah, the girls can be confusing and way too sharp at times when you wish they were completely oblivious.” He turned to John, “Tea or coffee, Doc?”

John blinked at the nickname and smiled as Jamie poured himself some tea, “Tea would be lovely, thanks.”

Jamie nodded and poured John some tea, “You like lemon, honey, milk, sugar or combinations?”

John laughed, “Milk and honey, please.” 

Jamie nodded and John watched in fascination as the young man went about preparing their tea, “Barbie style or just blonde and randy?”

John blinked, head tilted slightly, “What?”

Jamie turned and laughed at John’s confusion, “Do you like a lot or a little and of which?”

“Oh, somewhere in between on both, please.”

Jamie smirked as he doled out milk and honey in both of their tea and brought them to the table. He sat down and slid John’s cup to him, “You’ll get used to the slang. It’s not hard, just a bit weird at first. Sort of a combination of British and Southern slag all mixed together since most of us are either from the southern U. S. or somewhat local to the area.”

John smiled, and took a sip of the tea. It was surprisingly good, considering it had come from a coffee pot. Jamie must have seen the look on his face, because he laughed, “What you didn’t think we’d have proper tea, even from a coffee pot? Believe me; we all get fussed at until we learn how to make English tea, even if we don’t drink the stuff. Brett’s a stickler about the tea and he pretty much runs this joint.”

John had to laugh, “But in a coffee pot?”

Jamie winked, “You’d be surprised what college kids come up with.”

Both men turned as they heard footsteps on the stairs, Jamie watched John’s face fall slightly as a young black woman came in, “Oh, so this is the bloke.” John matched the name Jamie had called to earlier and the voice that had responded to the woman standing in front of him now, Sandy. John filed that away as he noted her slight accent, “Not bad.” 

She’s definitely not from the states, probably from Cardiff with that lilt. John gave himself a mental shake as stopped himself from attempting to deduce more about the young woman. _Gah_ _, I’m starting to think and sound like Sherlock, even in my head._

A young black man came in not five seconds later, “Yo, Jamie, w’ere’s the fütball? I’ve got to practice before the game tomorrow.” He seemed to stop, realizing that there was someone new in the kitchen, “Who’s the geezer?”

The young black woman, frowning, turned and smacked the guy on the back of the head, “Manners, Charlie, remember your manners!”

John tried not to laugh as Charlie rubbed his head, “W’at was that for?”

Sandy rolled her eyes, “Sorry for Charlie, he’s a bit of an idiot.” John nodded, trying not to smile, “I’m Sandy,” she held out her hand, “And you must be John." She smiled as he took her hand and shook it, “It’s nice tu meet you.”

Charlie looked John up and down with a quick glance, “Oh, this is the bloke Nina’s sister fancies.” Charlie’s face held a bit of surprise and appreciation as he said, “Sure works fast for a fat chick.”

Sandy turned to Charlie in shock and annoyance, her look clearly saying, “ _Are you kidding me? Can you not keep your mouth shut for five seconds?_ ” Sandy turned back to John, “'Scuse us for a sec'. I need to speak to Charlie for just a mo’.” Sandy all but shoved Charlie out the doorway, with him protesting the whole way. John laughed outright when he heard another loud smack and Charlie yelp as Sandy vocally scolded him.

Even Jamie laughed, “Sorry about that. Charlie’s aces at soccer, but he’s a bit dim when it comes to keeping his mouth shut. I think it’s Aspergers Syndrome or something like it.”

Another set of footsteps came down the stairs. _Good god, what now?_ John turned to see Ari step around the door and his face lit up. He rose from his chair and all his attention was on her. It was as if everything else in the world just fell away as she approached him. Her hair was slicked back into a neat little bun and she wore a beautiful royal blue, sleeved, empire waist sundress that seemed to sway as she moved. _She looks like a fairy tale Princess or maybe a ballerina._ He took a step toward her, but his feet got slightly tangled in the chair beside him, making him fall back into reality as he caught himself before he fell flat on his face.

Jamie laughed, “Wow, girlie. You almost had him falling at your feet. Nicely done, especially for a rush job.”

John blushed, but couldn’t keep the smile off his lips, as he righted himself. He untangled his feet and said, honestly, “You do look beautiful.”

Ari’s cheeks pinked even more, as she looked away, bashfully. She whispered, “Thank you,” as she glanced up to see if he was still staring. He watched her cheeks turn a darker shade of red as he continued to look. 

Jamie laughed aloud, “Oh for heaven’s sake! The sappy love songs are playing in the air with you two.” 

Sandy walked back in, took one look at Ari and John, and said, “Get’a room! Bet’er yet, Ryan’s gone, go use his!”

Jamie got up and made shooing motions, “Would you two just go already? You’re turning me into a diabetic, here.” 

Ari was trying not to laugh, as she took John’s hand, “Alright. Jeez, you guys. Chill out.” She waved with the other hand, “We’re leaving.”

Jamie and Sandy called after them as they walked down the hallway, “Have fun!” “Be safe!”

Ari called over her shoulder, “Will do. See you tonight.” She paused at the door and called louder, “And don’t eat my stir fry! Nina said she’d save me some.”

John laughed as he heard Jamie’s reply, “No promises, hon!”

Ari laughed and shook her head, “Those guys are crazy.”

John was laughing with her, “And there are more of them?”

Ari nodded, “Oh yeah. That was only two of twelve and that’s only including the ones who live here. It’s not including all the friends or club members who come over on a regular basis.”

 _Goodness!_ “How do you deal with that?”

Ari shrugged, not letting go of his hand as she shut the door behind them both, “If you grew up in a large family, you’re kind of already used to some of the craziness that living like this has.” They walked down the steps together, “And I had a large family, although most were grown and moved out before I really understood how big my family was.” John moved to open the wrought iron gate for her as she spoke. She smiled up at him as he recaptured her hand. He turned them left out of the gate and she followed easily, “Most of them are really nice.” Ari laughed, “Some you just have to get used to.”

John piped up, “You mean like Charlie?”

Ari nodded, smiling, “Yeah, like Charlie.” She shook her head, “But Sandy and Charlie come as a pair. You can’t have one without the other. Sandy’s been taking care of Charlie since their Mother died when Charlie was four and Sandy was six.” John frowned, knowing how hard that can be on sibling relationships, “She doesn’t mind it, though. She loves her brother. She even switched schools so she could keep him in line.” John was fascinated as Ari talked, he was amazed to realize just how much Ari noticed about other people, but not in the same way that Sherlock did.

After she’d told him about most of the residents in her flat, he asked, “How do you know all of this about all of those people?”

Ari smiled, “Well, some of it, Zebina’s told me over the past few months before I came here. She wanted me to know what I was going to be getting myself into and who I’d have to deal with on a daily basis. Some of it I’ve figured out from things I’ve seen. Some I’ve gotten from the things others have told me, but most of it comes from the people directly.” She shrugged again, “People just tend to open up to me. They talk to me.”

John nodded, “You get that a lot, don’t you?”

Ari nodded, smiling, “Yeah, I do, even strangers on the street, or while I’m waiting in line, or sitting at a restaurant will tell me their life stories. I’ve never really understood it, but my Momma says it’s a gift.”

John nodded, “I have to agree.”

Ari’s smile was a bit sad, “Yeah, it’s nice to have someone to talk to and ask advice from, but it’s hard when they don’t take it and everything falls apart. I really hate it when they end up heartbroken because they didn’t listen.”

John thought about that for several seconds, wondering what would happen if Lestrade ignored Sherlock’s advice on a case. John shivered at the thought and swallowed, “I can see how bad that could turn out.”

Ari looked at him, then, “You were thinking about Sherlock.” It wasn’t a question, but he nodded, “Was it about a case?”

“Not exactly, I was thinking what would happen if no one listened to him.” John’s face went grim, “They don’t like listening to him now, but he’s almost always right.” John frowned, “If they didn’t listen to him,” John shook his head, “I could just see how bad the things could get and just how quickly.”

Ari smiled, “I’m glad.”

John blinked, “What?”

Ari smiled brighter, “I’m glad they listen to him.”

John smiled down at her and felt his heart warm. _I’m glad I’m here with you._ “I’m sorry I was so early.”

Ari laughed, “It’s okay. It just took forever to get in the shower. All the others had classes and practice, so they got priority since my date wasn’t until 2.” John felt his face heat up as he realized she’d been naked when he’d arrived, “Actually, I was kind of surprised Jamie wasn’t at play practice after he was done baking. He’s usually there from sunup till dinner time.” She smiled, “He hates to be alone when Denny’s not there and Denny’s class schedule runs him from seven am till almost eleven pm.”

John’s brow rose, “Why so long?”

“Oh, Denny’s a double major. He’s doing medical school during most of the day and Art classes in between or whenever he can squish them in. I don’t know how he does it. His course load is absolutely killer. I think I’d keel over after just a week.” She blinked, “Actually, from what you’ve told me about Sherlock, and from what I’ve seen, Denny’s metabolism is similar to his. Although, now that I think about it, Denny seems to live off of Bourbon–or alcohol of almost any kind–, caffeine, and nicotine with food vary sparingly placed in between. At that, it’s usually Jamie who gets him to eat.”

John blinked and nodded, “That could’ve been Sherlock if he drank.” John wondered aloud, “How long have they been married?”

“Oh, not long. I don’t think they’ve been married a year, yet.” She smiled at him, “They do make the cutest couple. You should see them when they kiss.” She winked, “Total turn on.”

John’s eyes widened as she turned away from him, smiling. _Okay, that’s something I didn’t know about her. Seeing guys kissing turns her on._ John filed that away in his mental list that had her name on in it, big bold heading. _Good to know._ John smiled as he noticed a stray lock of hair that hadn’t made it into her neat little bun, bounce around her neck. He had the urge to play with it, but that would mean letting go of her hand, which he was reluctant to do. He also noticed as her hair began to dry, little flyaway hairs at her temples made little soft, airy, ringlets that moved with every gust of wind. In the sunlight her almost black hair shone with a variety of hues from copper to honey gold to ebony. He wondered if any salon could ever recreate such natural perfection. _I doubt it._ She snuck a look back at him and he realized he hadn’t said anything to her comment, “My sister, Harry, she’s gay as well.” He could have kicked himself at how that had come out, but he saw Ari smile, so he went on, “She was married, but they got divorced this year.”

Ari stopped abruptly, turning toward him, concern on her face, “I’m sorry.”

John stopped just short of running into her and smiled, “It’s okay.” John shrugged, “We don’t exactly get on. We never really did.”

Ari nodded, face still concerned, but now more filled with an understanding that made John wonder about Ari’s relationships with her other siblings, “That happens.”

John realized they were starting to block the pavement, so he led them on, but didn’t stop talking, “She has a drinking problem, you see.” Ari nodded, listening, “I’ve tried to help her, but she doesn’t really see it as a problem.” John watched Ari’s face become slightly pinched, “She wanted me to stay with her when I got back from Afghanistan, but I couldn’t.” Ari wrapped their arms together as they walked and John kept talking, “You see, I liked Clara and I didn’t like how Harry treated her in the end. She was such a sweet girl.” John felt Ari’s strength and support flowing into him, giving him leave to talk about things he hadn’t been able to, not even with Sherlock. 

He’d meant for them to take the bus to the museum, but they ended up walking there with John talking the whole way. Ari only interjected when she didn’t quite understand something he’d said. John talked about his unit, his mates in the medical staff, losing too many young men and women, and finally about how he’d been shot, wounded, and sent home. It surprised him at how easy all of this flowed out of him. He was even able to tell Ari about how he’d considered suicide after he’d returned home and how meeting Sherlock had been the thing that had saved him from eating a bullet from his own weapon. 

John had stopped there, seeing the fear in Ari’s eyes and feeling her arm tighten around his. He smiled down at her and reassured her, “Don’t worry.” He took her other hand in his, “I have no intention of ever doing that.” He smiled as he saw relief fill her face, “I have too much to live for, now.” Ari smiled at that, and John felt the tension start to ease from her body. He couldn’t help adding, “And I’m finding new things to live for every day,” as he looked into her eyes. He watched the surprise that was rather immediate turn into pure happiness and it made his chest tighten.


	2. British Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Ari visit the British Museum for their second date.

**Outside the British Museum, London, England**

John checked his watch and was slightly taken aback at how long he’d been talking. He looked up from his watch, “Maybe we should get some food before we go to the museum.”

Ari smiled, and asked innocently, “But won’t it close soon?” 

John frowned, “Yes, they do close early during the week.” _Damn, I should have paid more attention to the time._ John felt Ari’s hand squeeze slightly, which drew his attention to her face.

“I like the time we spent walking. I don’t get to do that much. I would like to sit down soon, but I’d really like to see the exhibit before they close.” Ari smiled slightly, “I mean, we could always come back another day, but why waste such a lovely walk?”

John couldn’t help but smile back, “The museum it is, then.” John led them both up the long steps and he noticed that Ari’s knees were a bit wobbly, which concerned him. _Well, we have just been walking for almost four hours. That’d make anyone tired, you idiot!_ John reproached himself mentally and assured himself that they’d sit down as soon as they got inside. _If I remember correctly, there should be some benches in some the art sections, somewhere._

 

John paid the special exhibit ticket price, wondering if they still had school tours like when he was younger. In fact the last time he’d come to the British Museum, he’d been a lad, on a class trip. He’d thought Ari might want to join a group and do a guided tour, but they’d come too late to join any. To John’s amusement, Ari had other, much better ideas. John quickly decided that the price of the special admission tickets were well worth it, as he watched Ari’s eyes widen with wonder. Watching her in the museum was like watching a flower bloom right before your eyes.

When they were in the History part of the Museum the hilarity began. John hadn’t noticed her bag until she reached into it and pulled out a real camera. To his chagrin Ari grabbed a bystander and asked them to take a picture of them both standing underneath a reproduction of a medieval archway. Ari laughingly took pictures of John imitating the positions of Knights in armor while John took pictures of her pretending to swoon at their feet. They both took pictures beside the mummy cases, hands folded over their chests. This hilarity went on for quite a while as they moved through each gallery.

Ari was much more entertaining than being on a guided tour. Ari pointed out things he’d never seen and spouted facts he knew the curators would never have allowed on the plaques. She had him laughing so loud and hard that one of the guards had to shush them, which had just made it that much harder to stop. John couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun when there weren’t bullets and bad guys involved. It was the loveliest time he’d ever had at a museum in his entire life.

John had once taken a date to an art exhibit, not the British Museum or anything like that, but a posh gallery he’d heard about from a patient. Unfortunately that had been a disaster in which they had both been bored and left after less than an hour of coming. He’d been dumped by her by the end of that week. Watching Ari, he finally realized why. _Sandra hadn’t really liked art, at least not the way Ari does._

As they entered the art part of the museum Ari drew out a sketch book and pencil from her purse. She put away her actual camera in favor of her phone. He’d seen her take several pictures with her phone, but now he watched as she made quick sketches. She scribbled down names, dates, and information from the little name plates next to the artwork or displays. Sometimes Ari would take several pictures of a piece from different angle, especially sculptural pieces, including taking pictures of their little name plates. He watched and wondered at how she would bend or adjust to get a better picture in the odd lighting of the museum.

John was curious about why she did that, so he asked. To his amusement she blushed, “My memory isn’t as good as some peoples’ memory. If I want to be able to remember these for later, to look up, or just to remember, I have to write them down.” Her blush deepened, “I also told my art professor that I’d do a paper about any artwork I thought she’d like or that I thought was really cool for extra credit. . . and I really suck at spelling. I don’t want to have to look up the correct way to spell all of the names, so,” Ari waved at her sketchbook, pencil, and phone.

John laughed, “So you’re doing school work on a date?”

Ari looked down and her cheeks turned an adorable shade of red, “Yeah.”

John took her hand, “So which one do you think she’d like?”

Ari looked up at him, surprise written all over her face, “What?”

John laughed and pointed to a couple different paintings, “I don’t know much about styles, but those seem pretty different to me.”

Ari laughed with him, “Um, yeah, they’re completely different,” she nodded, “Different artists, different styles, different eras,” she looked at him, tenderness in her smile, “You really want to know?”

John nodded, “Tell me about them. Tell me which ones you like and which ones your teacher would prefer.”

Ari’s smile was John’s reward for saying something that led into an almost hour long art lesson. John wouldn’t remember most of it, he knew, but after about the third gallery he had a pretty good grasp of what Ari’s tastes in art were. It gave him an understanding about her that he didn’t think many people were privy to, let alone bothered investigating. For some reason he really liked that.

John watched Ari’s face as she examined each piece of art. Her eyes would widen, taking in the whole piece and then would go from detail to detail, picking up minute nuances that John never would have noticed. After she caught him watching her for the third time she’d blushed and started pointing things out to him. She pointed out little things like a change in brush stroke or how a small bright spot of paint had been done deliberately on an otherwise dull looking landscape. He marveled at the way she saw things and at the way she picked up on things he never would have seen.

 _Is this how Sherlock sees the world? Does he see a crime scene like Ari sees these pieces of art?_ John was in awe at their ability. He was in awe of how much wonder Ari saw in everything she looked at. _I wish I could see the world the way they do_ _._

Once, in front of a large Greek looking statue, Ari spontaneously held out her hand to him, grinning joyously. When he’d taken it, she pulled him in close and pointed to a miniscule crystal in the hand of the marble sculpture. She’d leaned in and whispered, “He did that on purpose. Do you see where it is on the hand? It’s right where a wedding band would have been.”

John was astonished. He knew he never would have seen that, “Amazing,” he said as he looked back at Ari, “Absolutely amazing.” 

The compliment flew over her head and John had to smile. _She doesn’t even realize how incredible she is._ As they were leaning over the hand, the lights flickered, signaling the closing of the museum. John couldn’t help but laugh at the sad pout that obscured the glee of just moments ago. They both straightened, “We can come back again. I promise.” To his utter shock, he found an ecstatically happy woman bouncing around for a few seconds before she flung her arms around his neck. She drew him down the few inches to her level and kissed him fully on the lips, shocking John nearly senseless. _Whoa!_ John leaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to him. _If I had known she was going to kiss me with those words, I would’ve said them much sooner!_ _Hmm, she feels so good._ Her lips were soft, her breath warm, and her body even softer as she seemed to melt against him. He didn’t push or control the kiss, but let her set the pace, since she had initiated it. John didn’t know how long they stood there, but he clearly heard someone clear their throat. Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and looked around dazedly. 

An older guard, who was trying very hard not to smile, said, “Museum’s about to close, ladies and gentlemen. You need to head to the exit.” 

John cleared his own throat, and nodded, “Thank you.” The guard nodded and John saw the smile he’d been attempting to hide come into view as he turned to finish his rounds. _God, I really do feel like a teenager, again. What has gotten into me?_ He blinked several times and looked down to see Ari still very much wrapped around him. He blushed to realize that his arms were what had kept her from stepping away. She smiled up at him, cheeks pink,  lips slightly fuller and still parted. John felt his groin throb as he stared down at her mouth, “We have to go.”

She smiled up at him, “Yes, we do.” She sighed and made to step back. John grudgingly let his arms fall away, but he smiled as she pulled one of his arms around her shoulders and snuggled close to him. She nodded, “Okay, I’m ready.”

John laughed shortly, and squeezed her a bit closer, kissing her on the top of her head, “You are a wonder.” She smiled up at him and they walked like that, if a bit awkwardly, out of the museum.


	3. Soothing Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock plays his violin to quiet his mind's chaotic turbulence.

**221B Baker Street, Living Room**

Sherlock was bored, but he knew that short of a case, he would get no respite until John came home. He'd tried working on experiments, but not even they were keeping his mind engaged. He'd been able to while away most of the morning by analyzing the previous night, but after John had left, Sherlock had found it increasingly hard to focus and concentrate on the data. His mind kept jumping to the most farfetched conclusions and he was not currently willing to continue until he had more data with which to refine any possible conclusion. "Work in progress," was labeled over what had quickly become an entire wing in his mind palace. "Judgment reserved until further data collection completed," was etched in smaller print just below it.

Sherlock sighed heavily and pulled out his mobile for the forty-sixth time. He started to type a message and then stopped. _What am I doing? There's no reason to ruin such a boring date. He'll be back early anyway._ Sherlock wished he could believe those thoughts, but he knew better. Taking Ari to the British Museum had been a stroke of genius, worthy of himself. He hadn't thought John had that in him, but Ari seemed to bring out the best in the good doctor.

Sherlock stood, agitated, and moved to the window. He picked up his violin and bow. Adjusting it on his shoulder, he placed his chin on the rest. Sherlock placed his bow against the strings and played a few tentative notes. He adjusted a peg or two until the notes were pure and on pitch. He sighed as he turned away from his music stand. He didn’t feel like playing the music he’d been working on. He let his mind wander through his repertoire until he chose something that suited his mood. 

Max Bruch's _Violin Concerto No. 1 in G minor (Op. 26)_ was the first that came to Sherlock’s fingertips. For some reason it seemed to fit the emotions that roiled inside him. The familiar cords of the concerto seemed to ease the tightness in his chest, which he hadn’t known was there. What normal people did while they were sleeping, Sherlock did while he played the violin. Sherlock didn’t really think as the music moved through him, he let it flow, as his mind processed in the background. After almost half an hour of playing the concerto, Sherlock seamlessly transitioned into a vastly different melody, but one which also seemed to also fit his mood. The _Butterfly Lovers Violin Concerto_ filled the small flat with a totally different sound. The oriental piece flowed for only a few short minutes, but it was a thing of beauty. When that piece ended, Sherlock flowed straight into _Paganini’s Caprices No. 24_. The complex fingering allowed his mind to wander further abroad, giving it a measure of peace from the boredom and the onslaught of emotions which he’d been desperately ignoring. 

For once, Sherlock didn’t want to think. He needed a break, and unlike the rest of the world he couldn’t find it in traditional means, but the song was too short. Sherlock drifted into another piece. This time it was _The Swan_ by Saint-Saëns, but that was also too short for his mind to fully relax. He momentarily considered playing all of the Saint-Saëns Animal concertos, but not all of them fit. He discarded the thought and glided into a piece he rarely played, but which almost every violin student must learn if they wished to be taken seriously in the professional music world. Felix Mendelssohn's _Violin Concerto in E minor (Op. 64)_ rang out. 

Time flew by as he played the almost half an hour long piece. Sherlock felt his muscles tense and ease as he moved with the music. His mind roamed free, allowed to wander, separate from his mind palace, but not disconnected. In this state, he was better able to process and discard the pesky emotions that randomly plagued him. He was even usually able to separate himself so that no one realized just how deeply he could truly feel. He’d long ago created a labyrinthian maze of defenses to keep him from being hurt and confused by all of the sentiment and emotional turmoil that was always far from logical. Everything from Molly’s overt infatuation to Donovan’s attempted bulling to Lestrade’s doomed marriage, none of it had ever made any form of sense to him. It just did not compute or process . . . except when he played his violin. That was the only time it ever seemed to make any sort of sense. 

Motives for murder he understood. Most were boring and more than mundane, but they made sense. There was always a ~reason~ behind murder. Sadly enough it was usually found in some twisted way to be related to sentiment or it was emotionally based. _Even greed is based in sentiment, the need to be better and have more than those around you, the one-upmanship . . . so gauche._ The only motives which truly intrigued him, because they just seemed more logical, were serial killers. Their motives weren’t always clear, but they were almost always logical, even if the logic was highly twisted or deranged. No matter how perverted the logic was, though, it made sense to him like almost nothing else. 

That is why he almost agreed with Sgt. Donovan. _I am a freak. I am not of the norm or anywhere near socially acceptable_ , but he had long ago given up on ever being acceptable. _Pirates were never accepted._ _Pirates had all the best adventures and the Work is my version of adventures._ Sherlock’s mind began to run through the jobs that a Pirate ship would have. As his mind attempted to find patterns he realized that his crew was a ship of few, but John held almost all of the jobs, save five. He was no cabin boy, sail mender, navigator, nor sailor, frankly. _I am the Captain, though because this is my ship, my Work, my life’s work._ He vaguely wondered if John knew how to or had ever sailed.

As he finished the final fast paced notes of the music, ending with a flourish, Sherlock finally felt some measure better. He sighed and put his violin away in its case. Rotating his shoulders and stretching, Sherlock realized that many things which had been jumbled inside his head were now sorted into their respective places. He smiled to himself, glad he’d managed to play out some of his troubles. _Enough of them, though not all._ He wandered to his room and glanced around. Nodding to himself, he fell on his bed, sprawling, spread eagle on top of the bedspread. He wondered if he should bother getting under the covers. 

With reluctance, he moved slowly and maneuvered under his duvet, but not his sheets. The comforter felt cool to the touch, which made him shiver slightly. Sherlock pulled it tighter around him, tucking it under his chin and closed his eyes. Even though light was streaming in shafts around the window shade, through the cracks and gaps, he knew he needed sleep. He hadn’t slept in almost three days and after the past hour and a half of playing, he’d finally used up his energy reserves. His mind was finally at a low enough level in which he could achieve sleep, if he hurried. He intentionally slowed his breathing and relaxed his muscles a set at a time. After only a few minutes, Sherlock allowed himself to drop into a light meditative state. He finally let go of his tightly held control. With a small smile of accomplishment, he relaxed into his mattress minutely. It wasn’t long before the meditative state turned into sleep. He’d managed to fall asleep before his brain could work itself back up into a frenzy. 


End file.
